


Daughter of the Twilight

by JulisCaesar



Series: Queen’s Freedom [2]
Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, in which the AU bears fruit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28956999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulisCaesar/pseuds/JulisCaesar
Summary: The consequences of Daemon and Lucivar’s freedom ripple out, affecting people they’ve never met. Or: Surreal grows up slowly.
Series: Queen’s Freedom [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2097504
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Daughter of the Twilight

**Author's Note:**

> The second of the ‘prologue’ stories. I originally wrote this as a one-shot but on reflection decided it needs a second chapter after all, so look for that in a couple weeks.

**1 - Terreille**

Surreal scrambled through the crowded streets, trying not to knock into anyone while also staying ahead of the guards. They were after her this time because she'd lifted the captain's wallet and its associated five hundred gold marks, but also because the sergeant had recognized her from the last three or four times—something about her eyes, and if Surreal didn't love her mother so much, she'd curse the heritage that made her stand out in Draega—and now it was more than personal. It was Queen's business.

Muttering apologies, she ducked into a stall, hopped over the table, and scooted under the rear awning into the narrow lane behind the market booths. There were fewer people here but less space. That was fine: It was here she could really dig in and build up speed, which was going to be essential if—

There was a shout.

Surreal turned to see a guard bursting through the awning, pointing a spear at her.

Not swearing but only from lack of breath, Surreal stretched, put a touch of her birthright Green into it, and grabbed onto a dangling shop sign. Swinging, she forced her legs up and over; she stood on the sign for a heartbeat and then leaped for the roof. Her fingers just grasped the edge and for a terrifying moment she hung as below her the guards caught up. Then she forced a foot into a gap in the bricks and used that to push herself up and onto the rooftop.

Draega favored wide, flat rooftops with decorative gardens, something that came in handy when you were trying to get away from a pack of murderous guards and weren't inclined to push your way through the crowds below—or to be picky about trespassing. Surreal sprinted for the nearest ledge and leaped to the next building over, landing in a roll and quickly turning that to a sprint.

The guards knew where she was; they just didn't have the athletics to get up here the same way she had. So they'd be slowed down by forcing their way into the building and up to the rooftops. But the moment they were up here, she was in full view and there was nothing keeping them from going after her with Jewel strength.

Muttering curses, Surreal jumped another alley, coming to a roof with two trapdoors. Perfect. They were both locked, but it was simple to use the Green to bust both the locks, flip both open, and then climb down one and close it behind her. With any luck, they'd be confused for at least a moment.

Titian needed the money, she reminded herself. And there weren't many in her Court who had the Jewel strength to filch from the guards. And, if she admitted it, it was fun—more fun than learning Protocol. Just also, when she was sidestepping her way down the stairs because the middle steps looked rotten, she sometimes hated what her mother told her to do.

She reached the bottom of the stairs without any sounds coming from above, and took a moment to straighten her hair over her ears and check that her tunic was presentable. Breathing through her nose so she wouldn't pant and attract attention, Surreal opened the building's front door and calmly stepped out into the crowd.

Safe.

* * *

Titian thanked her for the marks, and for the risks, but she didn't say what Surreal wanted to hear, which was that she was free for the rest of the day—or next couple days, even. Instead she beckoned over an unfamiliar witch.

Distaff to distaff, on the Gray, Titian said, *Test this one for me, would you? I don't trust her.*

Maybe Titian thought Surreal didn't notice how her mother handled her more and more like a Warlord Prince: Someone to be given a task to complete before they could get bored and find something else to kill. Or maybe Titian knew that Surreal was never, really, going to behave like a casteless witch and by doing this, unofficially admitting her to the Warlord Princes, she was giving Surreal some way to interact with Protocol that wouldn't make her chafe.

Either way, Surreal didn't _really_ resent the tasks. It was true. Given a task, she would try her utmost to complete it. Left to her own devices, she would go play havoc with Dorothea's pet Queens.

“Alekto, this is Surreal. My daughter.” Titian made for a striking Queen, with her silver hair braided back to expose delicately pointed ears, both so unlike the local Hayillans.

Alekto, on the other hand, was a very representative Hayillan: Golden skin, amber eyes, black hair, and small, round ears. She wore an Opal jewel dangling from a necklace, but Surreal suspected that was her Birthright rather than her jewel of rank. It was only smart, after all, to conceal how strong you were. Especially in Draega. “I am honored to meet the daughter of Draega's rebel Queen,” Alekto murmured, putting her hands out—palm up.

Surreal smiled and said sweetly, “Oh, I'm afraid in this Court we follow Protocol strictly. As the witch with the darker jewel, not to mention standing in Lady Titian's First Circle...” She also put her hands out, palm up.

With bad grace, Alekto flipped her hands over and rested them on Surreal's—very briefly. “A pleasure.”

 _Yes, definitely darker than the Opal._ “Welcome to the slums,” Surreal said. “I'd be happy to introduce you to Protocol.”

Alekto didn't seem pleased by this. “Oh, but I'm sure I need to sign a contract first, right, Lady Titian?”

Titian shook her head. “I will have a contract prepared in the next couple days, but you won't sign until you have some idea what you're getting into.”

“But I do!” Alekto protested.

Was it just that Alekto was younger than she looked? That happened with Hayillans; their lifespans misled her into thinking that they were all perpetually young adults, when sometimes they had only just made the Offering and come into their full power. If that was the case, Alekto might have a home here after all.

Prince Aedrian, Titian's First Escort, finally spoke. “It is Court policy for all newcomers to spend a handful of days acclimating to our way of life before agreeing to serve.” Aedrian was Hayillan, a Warlord Prince, and wore Sapphire. He also had taught Surreal everything she knew about throwing knives, and he was the only man—even in the First Circle—Titian trusted to watch her door at night.

That shut Alekto up.

“Surreal,” Titian said, speaking as Queen, not mother, “find out what Alekto can do with weapons.”

Surreal bowed. “Yes, Lady.” Jerking her head at Alekto, she left the court room by the back door.

Alekto followed, looking ill-at-ease in a stylish jacket, blouse, and skirt to Surreal's tunic and leggings. “I'm a Healer, why do I need to know how to fight?”

 _Sure you are, sugar._ Too many things about Alekto didn't make sense—from her clothing to her accent she reeked of aristo and she was far too prone to assumptions. Neither were common in Titian's court, which drew largely from Draega's large—and under Dorothea, flourishing—underclass. “She didn't say to teach you,” Surreal said coldly, and relished the way Alekto's psychic scent filled with fear.

Titian held Court in what had been an abandoned warehouse. Her First Circle had put interior walls in, and now it served both as the Court and as their homes. Out back was a small yard, just large enough for four practice rings, that the Court used for training. All the rings were filled, but one opened up at the sight of Surreal. Not, she thought smugly, because of her mother or her Jewels. Simply because Surreal was the best and nastiest fighter there, and everyone knew it.

And everyone knew they were in for a good time if it was Surreal dragging a new recruit into the rings.

Surreal turned first to the weapons sheds. “Is there anything you're more comfortable with? Knives, maybe?” As she spoke, she started leisurely sinking to the Gray.

“Why would I be more comfortable with knives?” Alekto asked, genuinely confused.

Surreal picked up an Eyrian war blade—mostly for show, there was no one here who was really good with them—and spun it once, just to see the way Alekto paled. “Because you're a Healer, sugar. Healers may heal, but sometimes to get there they have to cut first.” Carefully, she put the war blade back.

Unhealthily gray, Alekto picked up a dagger. “Knives, I guess.”

Someone snorted.

Surreal called in her favorite knife. “Perfect. Horake, keep time.”

The guard nodded.

Surreal backed into the ring, quickly layering a Gray and two Green shields. From Alekto's blank expression, she hadn't caught the first. “Rules: Shield now. We go till time, first blood, or someone taps out. You're not going to beat me but try your best.”

For some reason, Alekto didn't look reassured by this. “And Craft?”

“Go wild.” Surreal grinned, and reinforced her knife with the Green.

Something flickered too fast to catch across Alekto's face. It didn't matter. If she wore the Opal as Birthright, even if she had descended as far as possible, at most she wore the Red, and Surreal had trounced Red Jewels before. Slowly she put an Opal shield around herself and then her knife shimmered that little that meant it had been bolstered with Jewel strength.

“Go!” Horake shouted.

Surreal held her knife low, other hand raised in front of her, and watched Alekto realize that they were going to fight when she was in an expensive, stylish dress.

The other witch paled a little, and then stepped back and away from Surreal.

Mistake. Surreal followed with two short steps and a lunge, driving the knife up and in. Alekto wasn't fast enough, and the knife skittered off her Opal shield only because Surreal let it.

Shocked, Alekto backed away again and swung out with her knife. Surreal blocked the strike with her forearm, catching Alekto just above the wrist, and lashed out with the knife in her other hand, this time putting her weight behind it. 

The Green-powered knife hit the Opal shield dead on. The shield splintered and Surreal kept driving forward until—with an awful shock, the knife came up against a shield it couldn't break.

Surreal grinned. “Liar.”

“It's not illegal to conceal your strength around strangers,” Alekto said, but she reeked of fear.

Without moving, Surreal vanished her Green pendant and called in the Gray one. “No. It's just a bad idea when you've come to sign a contract with a Queen.”

For the first time, Alekto realized she was not the darkest Jewel in the ring. “You—” She too called in her Red, but she was outranked and she knew it.

“You shouldn't've lied,” Surreal said, stepping out of the way of a clumsy jab. Continuing the sidestep, she pivoted on one foot and brought the knife in with a wide, arcing swing.

Alekto threw up a Red shield that Surreal smashed right through, and then the knife hit Alekto, punched through the skin-tight shield and dug into her gut. She didn't scream, but did go white and stagger.

Surreal yanked the knife back out and watched the witch collapse. “Now,” she said, kneeling next to Alekto and removing the knife from her hand. “Tell me who sent you.”

From the way Alekto froze, Surreal knew she wasn't going to have to summon a Healer and apologize profusely. It hadn't happened yet, but you never knew. Titian could make a mistake and Surreal could stab someone who actually just wanted to join the rebels.

“I can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Surreal said, turning Alekto's hand so the little finger pointed up.

Alekto grit her teeth. “I won't tell.”

Surreal shrugged and forced Alekto's little finger back until it snapped.

Going dead white, Alekto grunted—and said nothing.

“The easy way, for the record,” Surreal said conversationally, “is that you tell me and then I slit your throat and finish the kill.”

Alekto sullenly looked away.

Surreal took hold of the ring finger. “The hard way is I break you, take the name, and hand you over to my mother—who, in case you missed it, is a Black Widow.”

 _That_ got Alekto's attention. Had she not known? Or had the shock of the stab and the broken finger driven the knowledge of the power in this court from her mind? “You'd—”

“Absolutely,” Surreal said, and pulled on the ring finger slightly. “If I run out of fingers, I'm taking the hard way.” And her mother wouldn't even hesitate before tying Alekto up in some horrible web as a lesson to, at a guess, one of Dorothea's pet Queens. But there were still a couple of minor powers in the underclasses who were offended by the organization and power Titian brought to the slums, and while it'd be surprising that they'd managed to throw a Red Jeweled witch at her Court, it wasn't out of the question.

Gulping, Alekto named a Hayillan Queen in Dorothea's circle. One of the higher ranked—and longer living—ones. Delightful.

True to her word, Surreal cut her throat and burned out her Jewels in one move.

She straightened slowly, watching Horake. Technically, she should have stopped the moment she'd drawn blood. Officially, Alekto hadn't done anything that warranted an execution.

And yet.

Horake served Titian, and every person in Titian's Court knew the price of being caught by Dorothea. He inclined his head slightly. “Well fought.”

Surreal returned Alekto's knife to the weapons stand. “Dispose of the body quietly,” she told Horake, and went to clean up.

* * *

Surreal took her time before coming down to dinner. Titian expected her, but meals never started promptly and she had a few minutes to spare.

Everywhere she went, she attracted attention. Here, at least, it was because of Titian, and because of the Jewels she wore. But outside the Court, it was because of her appearance. Straight black hair and golden skin came straight from her much-cursed Hayillan father, but her blue-green eyes and pointed ears came from Titian's people. Titian didn't answer questions or speak about her family, beyond that they were originally from Kaeleer and that her parents had settled in Dhemlan Terreille for unspecified reasons.

Which would normally beg the question of why Titian hadn't _stayed_ in Dhemlan, given how much safer it was there for Dark-Jeweled witches—and anyone else—than elsewhere in Terreille, except that Titian was a Queen. And Daemon Sadi, Warlord Prince of Dhemlan, the only male to rule a Territory, might be a fair ruler—certainly fairer than Dorothea—but he enforced his rules harshly. One of those rules was no Queens past the age of making the Offering were allowed to stay. They could pass through on the way to Kaeleer, or they could go elsewhere in Terreille, but they couldn't remain in Dhemlan.

Frankly, Surreal could understand why, even if it was a policy that had borne harsh fruit for Titian.

Daemon Sadi and his brother, Yaslana, were the two darkest males in Terreille, but until four hundred years ago, both had been kept as pleasure slaves. Sadi's leash held by Dorothea and Yaslana's by Pythian, Queen of Askavi. And then Sadi had been on loan to a Court in Dhemlan, and both of them had vanished. Fifty years later, Sadi came back and received—or coerced—agreements from all the Province Queens in Dhemlan that made him the ruling power in the Territory.

For centuries, millennia before that, Dhemlan had been the only Territory to not have a Territory Queen. It had always been governed at the Province level and paid the price for that in power. Never quite as powerful as Hayll, never quite as rich, never quite as organized.

And then Sadi came in, installed himself, set Yaslana beside him as his second, and proceeded to overturn the entire code by which the Blood lived.

Traditionally, as in Titian's Court, the Blood were a matriarchy. Men and women existed in two separate social and political spheres that intersected with complex and unexpected results. But at the end of the day, everyone answered to a Queen.

Under Dorothea, Hayll and surrounding Territories were becoming unbalanced. Dorothea had been quietly destroying powerful Queens—but much more openly, she'd been encouraging the rise of male councils that were equal in power to Queens that gradually turned into perpetual backstabbing between Queens who didn't trust any males and males who thought the Queens wanted to Ring them.

And yet, off balance and skewed as it was, Sadi's approach was worse. Sadi laid down the law: No more Queens in Dhemlan. Those who protested were killed by Sadi; in their place he set up male councils much like those elsewhere in Terreille. _Unlike_ elsewhere, though, the retribution he brought down on Queens did not follow for other females. Rape was much rarer in Dhemlan than anywhere else in Terreille, and Titian had told her that Sadi set up homes for broken witches.

But at any rate, Titian, having made the Offering and come away with the Gray, as a Black Widow Queen could not be allowed to stay in Dhemlan. So she had left, come to Draega, and almost immediately caught the attention of Kartane SaDiablo. He had thought her younger than she was, raped her, tried to break her, and left her pregnant. Following a tangled web, Titian had kept the child.

Scowling again at her father's hair and skin, Surreal went down for dinner.

* * *

Dinner was quiet by Surreal's standards. Titian had unofficially adopted every Queen in her District for training and required them to eat dinners with her Court. In theory, this meant that when Titian, who was short-lived even if Surreal knew nothing else about half her heritage, died, there would still be Queens in Draega who had been properly trained and not tainted by Dorothea.

In practice, thanks to those same Queens being long-lived Hayillans, this meant that the dinner table was half populated with young children and adolescent girls with more power than either sense or manners. Many of them had been in training with Titian for as long as Surreal had been alive and they still hadn't had their Birthright Ceremony yet.

But the execution that afternoon had sobered many of them, making them remember exactly what this was and who they were up against, and Surreal was able to eat quickly, make her excuses, and go out to the streets.

She always went for a walk in the evenings; it helped keep her in touch with what was happening in Draega when she wasn't running errands for Titian or helping contain the Court. She would head down alleys and side-streets and see who needed help and who was causing trouble, what the rumors were and whether Dorothea was trying anything new.

Tonight, everything was quiet. Shopkeepers closing up said hello to the Queen of the Slums' daughter, and more than one petty sneak thief tried to put money in her pocket. She caught them at it and gave the money back, reminding them that Titian's Steward held classes in the evenings and they should be going to those instead. She climbed the outside of a building, just for fun, and stood on the roof and looked at the stars overhead, scattered and glorious, every one a Queen in its own right.

And then the ever-present connections in the back of her mind came to life with a vengeance, and Surreal fell to her knees on the rooftop with the pain and the shock and the pounding, agonizing weight of her mother's final thoughts blazing through her mind.

*I need you!* came with the force of a blow, but it set Surreal to running, throwing herself off the roof and only stumbling slightly when the ground came up faster than she expected.

She tore through the alleys again to the warehouse, unable to think straight. Titian was screaming now, in rage but not in pain, and Surreal hoped—hoped—two Grays would be enough, surely, surely Dorothea couldn't defeat two adult Gray-Jewelled witches.

The warehouse was on fire.

Flames climbed up the walls and licked at the buildings to either side. People were screaming, running from their homes and either standing in the street in fear, or grabbing buckets and trying to fight it. Surreal quickly layered shields on herself—Gray, Gray, Green—and called in her daggers and reinforced them as well. No point in walking onto a battlefield unprepared—and she had no doubt, the warehouse was already a battlefield. The Gray—hellsfire, any of the guards could have put out that fire well before it got to this point. So the very fact that they hadn't meant someone was preventing them.

The crowd cleared a way for her as she ran into the warehouse. Immediately heat hit her, pressing, suffocating, and she had to force herself to go on. Where was Titian? Where were the Queens? Dammit, where was _anyone_? The fire was eating at the walls but hadn't moved onto the floor—or the ceiling. Someone was holding it back.

Snarling, Surreal forced herself to take step after step into the building, down the entryway to the first door. She vanished a dagger and touched the door. It was cool.

Not just cool, she realized, opening it, but _cold_. The cold of one of the Blood pushed beyond their patience. A Queen or a Warlord Prince in full fury.

Surreal bolted up the stairs and reached out on the Gray. Nothing.

Upstairs she was met with eerie silence. The fire raged down below and outside, but here on the upper levels it was held back. And frost gathered in the corners as if afraid to grow anywhere else.

Surreal put a sight shield over herself and crept down the hall to the dining room. She passed through the door rather than open it—and came into a slaughter.

Whoever had come here had known what they were doing. No one but her in Titian's court wore darker than the Green, and the kills here stank of Sapphire power. Body after body—people she knew, people she loved, every one of them dead and every kill finished. But no Queens. No Titian.

She came to the end of the room and slipped down the back stairs. It was the route the children were drilled to take in event of attack. But downstairs again, the heat pushed in on her and she had to put more energy into her shields.

Down another hallway, and there—there was the first girl. Ianthe. She had just had her Birthright Ceremony and come away with the Summer-sky. And now she was dead, her Jewel shattered. Surreal stopped long enough to close her eyes, and then slipped through a door out into the courtyard.

There she found the source of the fire. And the cold.

The Warlord Princes were, stupidly, still there. Three of them, all with Sapphire as their Jewel of rank. In front of them was a pile of small corpses. Between that and Surreal was Titian's body, staring lifelessly up at the sky.

Surreal didn't bother with subtlety, dropping the sight-shield. The Warlord Princes saw the Green on her chest and made an assumption, one she was happy to take advantage of. One of them laughed at her, and she threw a knife at him. Reinforced with the Gray, the knife went through his throat. He toppled, and the others swore and started forward.

Surreal saved her other knife, but hit the first with a blast of Gray power. He met it, briefly, before it punched through his shields and dropped him. The clash of power knocked Surreal back. She swung her knife up just in time to catch the last Warlord Prince in the gut. He heaved but pushed through it, swinging a fist at her. Surreal tucked and rolled, came up behind him, and stabbed him in the kidney.

Breathing hard and not looking at her mother, Surreal went to each Warlord Prince and finished the kill. There was no need for anyone to come up behind her later that night.

Then, at last, she turned to the other bodies.

The children, the young Queens, Draega's hope and future, were all burnt out. None of them wore darker than the Opal and the Warlord Princes had been able to punch through their shields and send them to the Darkness in one burst. Gently Surreal piled them up. With the Warlord Princes dead—and she wished she could have made that a lot longer and more painful—the fire would be spreading here soon. She intended to help it on its way.

Titian was another story altogether. She was dead, and both the Gray and the Green were down to the last drops of power. But preoccupied with their business, the Warlord Princes hadn't completed the job. Titian would make the transition to demon-dead, and Surreal would make sure she was sent to Hell. It was the least she could do.

Picking up her mother's body, Surreal set witchfire under the pile of corpses. She walked out of the courtyard, past the fire which engulfed the warehouse. There were two Queens who hadn't been at dinner; one was ill and the other had requested to stay home as her brother was back for a visit. Surreal would see if either of them was able to step up, along with any surviving Warlord Princes.

And then she would go hunting whoever had destroyed Titian's Court.


End file.
